Poetry

G.Mend-Ooyo attended the 22nd Genoa International Poetry Festival, held between the 10th to 19th of June 2016, in Genova, Italy.
On 18 June, he read his poems at the Palazzo Ducale in the centre of the city of Genova.
Damiano Abeni and Moira Egan worked on the translation of his poems into Italian.

Returning from afar, swallows in flocksEmbrace the tales of the gentle, tranquil steppe.The waters of eternity were spilt into the yellow steppe’s palms,And, ever since, these little birds have dared not leave.

If you say you’d understand Mongolia’s wild steppe,
if you say you’d look upon someone else,
we’ll draw up the cart outside a nomad’s tent
like a single button on a broad swathe of blue brocade,
Then I’ll saddle up a little wild horse for you,
this horse will calmly bring the moon closer.

I shall blaze like a candle in the isolation of the mind within.
I shall be sky blue in the faraway legends of our wild eastern steppe.
I shall wash in the delicate white rays of the hunchback moon.
I shall rest on the deep broad sands of our Ganga Nuur.

I shall shred the silken threads of grey-white clouds.
I shall examine white in the shadow of white feather-grass.
I shall be captured by the wind-bowed blue-green grass.
I shall roll out towards the horizon, along the great nomadic train.

Today I am a thousand riddles, ten thousand connections,
Like an iceberg, most of which is hidden in the ocean,
So my thoughts are hidden deep within my heart,
Concealed by the spirit of my country which inspires my mind.

I exist in the beauty of nature.
Its unfailing melodies can open me,
The distant stars and planets can open me,
The future and the passing of time can open me.